


By the Wayside

by Bemused_Writer



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexuality, Character Study, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bemused_Writer/pseuds/Bemused_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert wakes on the road with no clear recollection of how he got there. Upon meeting Kevin Regnard he is forced to conclude he's wound up in the past. Now he must find some way of returning but the shackles of history are not so easily dismissed; leaving may not be his greatest concern in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Pandora Hearts_.

* * *

" _Gilbert-kun!"_

_Was someone calling for him? It was so distant sounding. He couldn't be sure with the church bells ringing all around him, and the soothing warmth that was gripping him tight._

_His vision blurred, but he thought there might have been someone rushing towards him._

_He felt it when he was dragged downwards through something, but he couldn't be bothered to find out what or why. Only now it was too quiet. It left him feeling numb in the strangest of ways._

_Wind rushed past his ears. A great darkness billowed past him leaving him chilled to his core. He was falling like a shooting star across the night sky. There weren't any stars here, though. He didn't shine as a star did either. That light surely belonged solely to—_

_Floating teacups and devilish laughter._

" _Oh, how did you get here? You haven't done anything to be here." A pause. "I know, I'll do you a favor. I'll send you back!"_

_What? The voice was familiar, but he couldn't focus his vision at all. He knew there was something bright in front of him, though._

_And then he was falling again._

* * *

A heavy groan tore its way from his throat, and he shut his eyes determinedly; the morning sun was much too bright today. Hadn't he closed the blinds last night?

Gilbert's muscles were incredibly sore and cramped. His head throbbed with a constant pain, and the persistent sunlight wasn't helping. The last time he remembered feeling this fatigued was right after contracting with Raven.

It didn't help that he seemed to have fallen out of bed. He was lying on what he could only presume was his floor. He'd never realized how uncomfortable it was; it was digging into his back, and smelled earthy. Gilbert inhaled deeply, ignoring how his ribs protested against such a thing. Were floors supposed to smell like that? He was positive his was made out of wood, not soil. Maybe Break had snuck in and added a few plants or something, Gilbert decided. It sounded like the kind of superfluous thing Break would do. He'd probably explain it away as Gilbert needing something to distract him from moping.

Gilbert let out another groan, this one out of irritation. If there were plants in his apartment that meant Break was probably still there, sitting in his living room, waiting for Gilbert to get up and make him coffee. Break didn't visit often, but when he did he made sure to harass Gilbert as much as possible for food. It was strange Break hadn't woken him yet, though. He wasn't exactly known for his patience.

A cool wind brushed against Gilbert's resting form. Had he left the window open, too? He scrunched his brow in consternation. Just what had he been doing last night? He never forgot these kinds of things considering the danger surrounding his day to day existence. This neglect was practically unforgivable unless, of course, Break had come in through the window. This wasn't entirely unlikely, but Gilbert found it difficult to believe. Break far preferred to come in through the closet or some previously unknown nook and cranny.

A clip-clop sounded in the distance. It was definitely unwelcome as it was taking his migraine to phenomenal heights. Worst of all it seemed to be _approaching_ him. Gilbert's brain considered this for a second before deciding there was no way he'd been so neglectful of his apartment's safety he'd allowed a horse entry.

The horse was now right next to him if the pause a few feet away was any hint. Gilbert reluctantly peeled his eyelids open, and found himself staring into the clearest blue sky he had ever seen. His jumbled thoughts tried out a few solutions to this very strange puzzle. He didn't like the thought, but it seemed apparent he was outside. Gilbert refused to even consider a Chain lifting his roof right off without him noticing.

With some difficulty due to his aching muscles, another puzzle he would have to solve no doubt, he lifted himself into a sitting position, and took in the sights.

He appeared to be on the side of a heavily used dirt road in the middle of thick woodland. If Gilbert hadn't been consumed by a sudden panic he probably would have found it beautiful. As it was he could barely restrain himself from crying out in disbelief. It was dawning on him something was _very wrong._ Break couldn't plant an entire forest in his home no matter how much it might have amused the man.

Trying to regain some of his composure he focused his gaze on his visitor. It was, indeed, a horse, a chestnut mare to be precise. A man was dismounting it. Gilbert couldn't make out his features as his back was turned to him, but he seemed to have a slight physique, and he wore a black cape with a tall collar. Gilbert also noted with some apprehension he carried a sword at his hip.

When he turned to face him Gilbert couldn't help himself; he let out a high-pitched squeak. Without even realizing it, he had scuttled backwards until he was stopped by the thick trunk of a tree.

The man in question wasn't particularly intimidating, though he had a stern look plastered on his fair features.

"It's illegal to loiter on public roads," he announced curtly, looking at Gilbert with obvious dismay. Gilbert almost said it was also illegal to break into someone's house with a horse, but he stopped himself when he realized that probably wouldn't be taken well, nor would it make any sense.

"I'm sorry?" Gilbert managed to stutter out. He found himself incapable of saying anything more than that he was so caught up in the man's visage. He had long, silver hair tied loosely at the base of his neck, and he stood with his arms crossed. But his most striking feature, the one that shocked Gilbert to his core, were his glittering ruby eyes.

He looked like Break.

The man's frown deepened at this reply. "Where are you headed?"

That was a good question. Gilbert wasn't even sure how he got here much less if he had any destination.

"I'm not sure," he said quietly. Gilbert's head was pounding heavily with a constant tempo, and his muscles were getting more cramped the longer he sat.

The man considered this answer for a moment. He seemed to reach a conclusion; he approached Gilbert, and kneeled next to him.

"Are you injured?" he asked, this time with less severity. "If you were mugged you should make a report."

Even his voice sounded like Break's, albeit with a more serious, less cheerful timbre. Gilbert couldn't find a proper reply to his question; he was far too distracted by this strange person in front of him, and his even stranger circumstances.

The man seemed to grow impatient with Gilbert's silence as he took it upon himself to start prodding Gilbert's head in search of injuries. Gilbert let out a pained huff when he found a particularly painful spot. When he drew his hands back there were a few drops of red.

He studied this for a moment. "You will come with me," he declared as he stood. He offered a hand to Gilbert. Knowing there was no way he could stand without a little assistance, Gilbert accepted. His bones creaked as he stood in a disconcerting way; he really hoped whatever was wrong with him wasn't permanent.

As they approached his horse Gilbert wondered if there was any way he wouldn't fall off of it; he was already leaning heavily on Break's lookalike as it was. The man seemed to have thought of this as well. He paused in front of his mare with a calculating look on his face.

"If I help you up, do you think you could hang on long enough for me to get on?"

Gilbert replied in the affirmative even though he felt anything but confident. It didn't help that the man was giving him a rather doubtful look.

Somehow they managed to get him on with only a minimal amount of awkwardness. The man promptly mounted his horse behind Gilbert once he seemed to be in little danger of falling. The man reached around Gilbert, picked up the reigns, and urged his horse into a gentle trot.

There was no way Gilbert was going to last this journey with his dignity intact. In fact, it had already taken quite a beating. He felt incredibly nauseous, the movement of the horse under him did not help, and he was swaying slightly.

"It might help if you lean back," his mysterious companion suggested. Gilbert wanted to protest, but eventually gave in. He all but collapsed against him. If Oz or Break ever saw him leaning against someone like this the teasing would never end. Gilbert's face flushed in mortification at the very thought of it.

"What's your name?"

"Gilbert."

"Just Gilbert?" he asked nonchalantly.

He barely stopped himself from giving out his surname. He had no idea what the situation was; he couldn't give that information freely.

"Just Gilbert," he finally said. "What about you?" he continued, resolutely looking forward.

"I'm Kevin Regnard." Gilbert's heart stopped. "I'm a knight of the Sinclair."

Gilbert turned to face his companion in stunned disbelief.

Sunlight shone off of his silver hair brightly, and his red eyes held a subtle warmth even though he wasn't smiling. Gilbert would have said something, but their conversation came to a resounding halt when he fell into a dead faint. He distantly heard Kevin shout at him as he fell off the horse. He wondered why it sounded familiar.


	2. Getting Acquainted

“This will only take a moment,” Kevin said in reply to the look of discomfiture on Gilbert’s face as he unrolled a few bandages. After Gilbert had woken from his impromptu faint Kevin had decided he would be taking a better look at his head wound. Gilbert had reluctantly agreed as he had no desire to experience Kevin smacking him awake again. His face was still stinging and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was really an appropriate way to treat a patient.

Kevin began wrapping the bandages about Gilbert’s head in a precise fashion. Gilbert suspected he had done this sort of thing before.

“Have you any other injuries I should know of?”

“I think my head is the worst of it,” Gilbert sighed. “It usually is,” he added as an afterthought. Kevin gave him a strange look at that but said nothing.

“Where are you taking me?” Gilbert asked once Kevin seemed satisfied the bandages wouldn’t come off; Gilbert personally found them to be a bit tight.

Kevin hummed thoughtfully as he mounted his mare; he gestured for Gilbert to follow suit.

Once they were trotting along the road once more Kevin began to speak. “You may not know this but this road is currently off limits. I had to get special permission to use it. Frankly, I ought to be taking you to the jailer.” Gilbert wanted to protest this but stopped as Kevin continued. “I won’t be doing that though.”

“Why not?”

“You seem like one of the most harmless individuals I’ve ever chanced upon.” There was definitely a wisp of amusement in his voice. Gilbert twitched in indignation.

“All right, so why is this road closed? It seems perfectly normal to me.”

“If only it were. As it is, this road has been closed as it leads to Sablier; the Sinclairs were worried a certain family might be using it for their own ends and I was sent to investigate. One can only wonder how you ended up here. You’re clearly not of a high enough status to belong to any important family.”

Gilbert frowned at the offhanded manner Kevin relayed all this; at least Kevin didn’t seem to think he was an enemy. If this man really was Break, and Gilbert was still having a hard time believing that despite all the evidence, then the Sinclairs had yet to be massacred and Break had yet to reset time. Furthermore, it meant Gilbert had truly traveled into the past.

Gilbert racked his memory in the vague hope he would remember something useful. There was nothing there save for the ghost of a voice he could barely recall. Instead of pursue that course of action Gilbert decided it would be more prudent to analyze what he already knew of the situation.

He was fully dressed and had been since he had awoken. He was in his standard black trench coat and hat so he mustn’t have been doing anything for the Nightrays. More likely he had been helping Oz, which meant he’d almost certainly been around Pandora.

The only conclusion Gilbert could reach was something must have gone wrong in a battle with a Chain. It was hardly conclusive—and not all that helpful at the moment—but at least he had something to work with. At least he had an idea of why everything hurt.

It suddenly occurred to him Kevin had never answered where he was taking him if not a jail cell. Apparently Kevin was just as secretive as his future self. It wasn’t something Gilbert was particularly happy about.

Several hours later and they had reached a modest city. Gilbert observed the people carefully. They were certainly staring at him. It was a subtle thing, their staring; they didn’t break from whatever activity they had been doing before whether it was haggling over loaves of bread, juggling for the entertainment of bystanders, or hanging clothes to dry. He could see two boys attempting to steal a few pears—they were almost surely orphans. Something about the scene made Gilbert’s heart constrict. Vague images of Vincent and him fluttered through his mind but he quickly stamped them out. He didn’t want to remember. Not ever.

Kevin seemed to have noticed the boys as well but he simply continued on his way to wherever they were going. Gilbert surprised himself with how grateful he felt about this.

“Here we are,” Kevin announced as they stopped in front of a relatively large building. “This is the city of Ansel. It’s within the outskirts of the House of Sinclair. Right here,” he gestured toward the building, “is the Fox-eyed Tavern. We’ll be staying here for the night.” At some point day had turned to night; Gilbert was worried to note he hadn’t quite noticed when that had happened, so lost in thought had he been this whole time.

Gilbert looked up at the tavern and noticed the tavern sign had a huge fox head painted on it, which quickly explained the name. He wasn’t looking forward to staying at a tavern. Taverns were mostly drinking establishments in his time period but in Kevin’s they doubled as motels. Gilbert remembered one of the Nightrays’ history books discussing the often immoral business conducted in the shadows of taverns. There had been a case where several officials had been murdered in such a place, which had put an end to room and board. Gilbert sincerely hoped this wasn’t that particular tavern.

Kevin called a stable boy over to feed and look after his horse while they went inside. It was a dimly lit room with roughly hewn furniture. The fireplace was quite large and in the center of the back wall crackling merrily. There were only a few occupants and none were sitting together. Gilbert was struck by the thought any one of them could have been an assassin and Kevin really looked far too wealthy to be ignored. Gilbert really didn’t like drawing attention to them in such a manner; surely Kevin would know they wouldn’t blend in well in such a place.

Despite this, Kevin glided across the room to the innkeeper and plopped a few coins on the table. Gilbert reluctantly followed. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the two of them but accepted the money.

“Here’s some mead,” he said gruffly. “Your room is the farthest down the hall on the right.”

He plopped two mugs of mead in front of them and busied himself with cleaning the tables with the filthiest looking rag Gilbert had ever seen. He had to actively resist snatching it from him to do all the cleaning himself. He wasn’t a servant here. He wasn’t anybody.

Kevin sniffed the mead and took a small sip. “So,” he began.

“So?” Gilbert replied, eyeing his mead with some trepidation.

“You have no memory.”

“Right.”

“You were injured.”

“That’s correct.”

“You must have been in some kind of fight then."

“I suppose so.”

There was silence as Kevin seemed to mull this over. “What do you intend to do?”

That was an excellent question. Gilbert had been thinking about that for the whole trip and he wasn’t sure he had a whole lot of options.

“I’m not sure,” Gilbert admitted. “I guess I’ll have to look around to see if I can find any way home.”

“Have you any idea where that is?”

Gilbert thought about this for a moment and came to a conclusion.

“Reveille.” It was where he was living in his time; perhaps there would be clues there. Gilbert didn’t want to acknowledge he didn’t have any idea what he was doing and a significant part of him was hoping if he went to Reveille he would magically be transported back to his own time.

“The new capital?” Kevin mused. “Ishould be able to get you there after I make my report to the Sinclairs.”

Gilbert blinked. He hadn’t thought Kevin would want to stick with him. He had figured he’d be on his own in this little journey.

“You mean you want to travel with me?”

Kevin pushed his mug away from himself as he said, “I find you interesting; knights don’t often have companions and it can become tiresome. More importantly, you seem like you’d be a bit useless on your own.”

Gilbert flushed in frustration, the gently teasing quality of Kevin’s voice completely lost on him. He wasn’t useless! Why did everyone he met seem to think he was? He jumped when Kevin placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting late; let’s get some rest.” There was a slightly apologetic air about him that convinced Gilbert to let the matter lie.

It was only when Gilbert was lying in bed and Kevin was sleeping that he wondered about the first part of Kevin’s admission. It had sounded so honest, nothing like the half truths Break would tell on a regular basis. He was probably drunk, Gilbert figured. There was no way any version of Break could be lonely and he certainly wouldn’t admit to it.

As the hours dragged on and Gilbert found himself lying awake he allowed himself to fully acknowledge how much trouble he was in. He was lying in a ratty tavern bed, the window didn’t have any blinds so he could see the starry night sky, and there was a complete stranger lying across from him. He wiped at his eyes; he wished Oz was there or even Alice. In Gilbert’s time they could tease him a bit and then comfort him in their own odd way and he would get annoyed and pretend nothing had happened. In Gilbert’s time Vincent would be there fussing over him and saying strange things or Sharon would offer a nice cup of tea and a bit of advice or Break could harass him the way he always did.

Gilbert turned so he was facing the wall. He didn’t think Kevin was awake but just in case he was he didn’t want him to know just how miserable he actually felt. His life wasn’t always wonderful—actually, it usually wasn’t in the slightest—but he had people he could care for.

He never realized how much he had taken that for granted until now.

It was with these thoughts churning through his mind he finally fell into a restless sleep dreaming of things that should be.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere after chapter 31, and I'm going to consider it an alternate timeline for the sake of storytelling. This is something of a character study in regards to the differences between Kevin and Break.
> 
> I have this listed under the tag asexuality as that is how I envision both characters in this story.
> 
> Also, does anyone know if it's "Regnard" or "Legnard?"


End file.
